Jak and Daxter: Legacy

Chapter 8: Liver Shivving Time

I can't just abandon him, Daxter thought, even as he ran in the opposite direction of the slavers and Jak and out into the Precursor city. That sap won't last a second without me!

He hid behind an abandoned wagon and peeked through its broken wheel, little chest huffing. Vend and his two lackwit thugs were shouting and stomping around the fire (which they'd relit after throwing Jak in the cage), blabbing on about what they'd buy with the money Jak would bring them.

"I'm gonna sic Jak on you so hard when I break him out," Daxter muttered under his breath, digging his claws into the dirt between the road stones. "Then we're gonna sell your sorry asses. And then we're gonna spend all the money on booze and babes."

But to do that, he needed a plan.

Think, Daxter, think! What would Jak do? He'd… he'd, uh…

He whipped his tail in frustration. What would Jak have done? He thought back to Basinbreak. Jak had beaten off the Metal Heads with nothing but his hands and sword.

If only I had super amazing rage powers. I'd get the jump on those slavers, muster up all my bottled up anger at the world for making me a useless ottsel, and beat the snot out of them until they begged me to take Jak and leave.

All his hopes of heroism burst like a balloon pricked by a needle. He had no sword or gun, either. Should he go for the keys on Vend's belt? But how would he know which one was for Jak's shackles?

I suppose I could swipe the dagger back. That way, I could follow 'em, slip it to Jak when the slavers aren't looking, and then wait for him to use it the next time they open the cage. Jak could shiv asshat's liver quick and grab the key from his belt; he'd know what his own key looks like, I'm sure. Then pow! Super powers, activate! We kick their butts, take their money, and book it. A real good plan, if I do say so myself!

But first, he had to get the dagger. He'd seen the Klaww take it and Jak's sword, but Daxter had run away before he could see where she'd put them.

Daxter pounced from behind the wagon, scrambled up a nearby wall, then shimmied along the building's edge on two feet, the cool night wind whipping against him. Daxter slid down a pipe at the other end and found a good spot behind a massive dead mech's leg, just outside the main hall with the Precursor statue where the slavers sat.

He leapt behind the mech and peered around its brass ankle. Vend and the lackwits were only a few steps away. Thankfully, they'd broken out ale and were guzzling plenty of it.

"Think we can sell these, too!?" rasped the Klaww. In her hand glimmered slivers of bronze and silver; Jak's sword and dagger, both of which she swished around with drunken grace.

"Might as well," Drun answered. "That sword is especially cool. Wonder where bumpkin boy got it?"

Not sure, Daxter answered in thought. But it's gonna end up in all four of your daddy bags, ya blue, friend-nappin' bastard.

Daxter sat there for a long while, waiting for his chance. Irritation flared in his gut. The stupid Klaww wouldn't put them down. Finally, hope gleamed as they turned in for bed again, the fire extinguished once more. In the dark, he couldn't tell where she'd put them, but at least he now had a chance to sneak around and find out.

The ottsel crept forward on careful paws. All he could hear was the distant drip of water and the slavers' peaceful breathing as they fell asleep. Across the hall, some of the slaves were still awake in their cart, peering out at him.

He neared the Klaww and sniffed the air. As an ottsel, all things owned by people had a certain unique smell to them that only his nose was sensitive enough to pick up. Sometimes, it was pleasant, like a floral perfume. In Jak's case, it was more like hay and ocean and…

It struck him like a hammer to the nose. He followed it until it was so strong that his eyes were watering. There, just beside the Klaww's pillow, were Jak's sword and dagger.

Ugh, you really need to start eating things other than yakow jerky, kid, he thought as he pulled the dagger back with his teeth by the handle. Your stuff smells like you fucking bathe in it.

The Klaww started to stir. Daxter froze. Should he run and come back? Should he stay and play the dumb animal?

Red eyes snapped open and settled on him. Daxter plucked up the dagger in his mouth again and booked it out into the city, wanting to bash himself over the head for leaving Jak again at the same time every muscle in his body told him to keep running. Talons clacked against the street behind him as the Klaww took chase.

"You little thief!"

The Klaww chased him down a few alleys, though she was sluggish thanks to the ale, tottering against walls and tripping over stones. Eventually they came to a large hill westward of the slavers' camp, not quite a cliff, but still steep enough that he skidded to a stop when he saw the drop.

He turned around. Two reptilian legs stood between him and escape.

"Now, be a good boy and drop the dagger. Come on," she took a step forward. "I won't hurt you, just hand it over."

Daxter recoiled from her hand as she feigned an attempt at petting him. He looked over the edge, seeing nothing but fog and reeds, then back at the Klaww. If he didn't have the dagger, there'd be no hope of saving Jak at all.

He jumped. One moment, he was weightless. The next, the earth pounded against him and he slid down through cold muck and battered against tree trunks, stones, and vines. Still, he held onto the dagger with clamped teeth, not letting go of it until he was at the bottom, cradled in a puddle of algae-ridden mud and rotted plants.

"Ah, screw it," the Klaww muttered from above.

She backed away from the hill's edge. Daxter let out a sigh of relief, pulled his sore body from the muck, and dragged himself to a patch of dry grass at the marsh's edge.

I'll sleep here for the night and follow them when they start movin', he thought as he curled into a ball, tucking the dagger between his tail and paws. Tomorrow, it's payback time.

Two red indents flushed on Jak's forehead when he finally lifted it from the cage's bars. He'd been staring at the Precursor city all morning as they'd rolled on, thinking of statues, crystals, and the memory of an orange tail disappearing into the shadows. Now the city fit between his fingers as he held up his hand against it, a shining star long left behind.

Where's that weasel now? Jak tightened his other palm's grip on the cart's edge. I knew it was too good to be true. He probably only 'accepted' my problem because it was convenient to stick with me. And now that it's not…

Jak didn't know why it weighed so heavily on him. They were never friends, just two strangers who traveled with each other for selfish reasons. He fed and protected Daxter. Daxter guided him north. A business deal, cut and dry.

You knew he wouldn't stay. That's probably why he never asked anything substantial with that stupid question a day thing and never revealed anything deep about himself. He didn't care - he was just trying to pass the time.

"How's revenge tasting?"

Jak slowly turned his head back. It was the gray eyed man who'd gotten him into this mess, tucked between other human slaves who started to glance nervously between them as their glaring match began.

"Like you've never killed anyone," Jak replied, then turned back to squint against the rising sunlight and watch the landscape once more.

"I've killed, but at least I slit their throats and made it quick. Looked my sister right in the eye when you did it. Didn't even use your sword. You just kept strangling and squeezing. Then you snapped her," the gray eyed man grabbed a handful of straw from the cart floor and squeezed it. "Crunch. Couldn't have done that in the first place and made it easy, could you? Fucking animal."

"Maybe she should have picked a different occupation?"

The man's shackles jangled as he laughed and slapped his hands on his knees. "For us Unwise? What else is there? Picking at the scraps you tribals throw us? Acting as bait for the creatures of the woods while your fat, lazy asses make dents on the beach and you hog your stupid magic?"

"You've got green hair, don't you? You look tribal to me."

"Didn't matter. I've got gray eyes, too. My sister and I were half-bloods. The bandits took us in. Pretty sad when robbers and murderers are kinder to you than your own people."

"You're not the only one the tribals treated like crap," Jak answered.

"Bullshit. They said you were sage-trained; top of the asshole heap. Sandover, right? Samos ever tell you about that time he let those fuckers drag my mother out of our hut and 'drown' the demons out of her?"

Jak froze, his breath catching in his throat. The people of Sandover were judgmental, yes, but Jak couldn't imagine that they'd go that far. Especially not with Samos there, who often reined them in like a shepherd would their flock. Still, a hesitant voice rose inside him, whispering that it might be true. He'd only known Samos for nineteen years. The sage was two hundred at the very least. Who knew what he'd gotten up to in the centuries prior?

He certainly had dodged every question Jak had ever asked him about his past.

"Surprised? Only reason Samos let you stay is 'cause you can channel and 'cause your half-blood looks tribal on both ends. Had luck shown you the same favor and made you ecoless, Unwise bastards like us, we might have grown up together as bandit buddies. You might not have been as shitting ugly, either."

A few weeks ago, Jak would have rolled his eyes and told him to piss off. But dark eco - and his unconscious feelings about Samos - made it feel like he was carrying a match through a bomb factory. One wrong move, one more word, and the fuzes would catch fire.

Jak fueled his anger into the cage bars. He pulled at them until his fingers ached and the wound on his hand from Basinbreak reopened, blood glistening down the metal, his grip slippery, his eyes set firm ahead as he pretended it didn't hurt.

Even if Samos let that happen, which I doubt, why would it be my fault? There are Unwise that get by without stealing; why couldn't he? And maybe if they hadn't started attacking Kunino, they wouldn't have been killed, Jak grimaced as another surge of anger boiled through him and sweat dripped down his neck. The slavers aren't my fault, either. He's just a lying, bitter idiot.

"Is that why Samos finally threw you out? No more room in the yakow pen for another savage beast, hmm?"

The bars in Jak's hands started to creak and bend.

"Leave boy alone, Zeg."

The gray eyed man - Zeg - sneered and glanced around, then set his sight on the Babaks. Despite their hulking bodies, they looked as if they were taking up the least space in the cage, "Which one of you Lurkers said that!?"

None of their yellow eyes met Zeg's.

"If you like him so much, then you can have him! Let's keep the animals with their kind, shall we?"

He pulled Jak from the bars and shoved him toward the Babaks. Jak crashed into two of them, sending the whole cart jostling on its wheels.

"S-sorry," Jak sputtered as he scrambled backwards after the collision, bowing his head to them, backing away on hands and knees.

"What's going on back there!?"

The jangle of keys neared. Vend. Everyone in the cart backed away from him as he strode around, a black maned lion circling a trapped herd, pistols gleaming.

His sharp gaze fell on Jak. "Are we causing a commotion this morning, Moneymaker?"

"I-I-"

"Nah, it was one of them Lurkers," Zeg said. "They tried to pick a fight with him. Probably thought sparking his anger issues might give 'em a chance to escape if he managed to kill lots of us, I bet. Was that one with the fur patch missing on his arm that started it."

Jak looked up at the Babaks in horror. None of them stirred to speak or defend themselves. Vend nodded, motioned for Drun to come over, and plucked a key from his belt and slid it into the cage's lock. Click! The door squealed open. Drun reached into the cart to grab the accused Babak's mane.

"Twenty lashes for him, Drun. And make it quick. I've got a hangover and the sound of screaming does nothing to soothe it-"

"It was my fault."

Jak didn't know why he said it. Perhaps it was a selfish attempt at getting himself freed from the cage; a chance to let the slavers' whip trigger his dark eco and turn its power against them. Or perhaps it was a reaction to the fear he caught in the Babak's eyes? Drun shrugged, let the Babak go, and started to reach for Jak instead.

"No, Drun. We can't afford to scar up that one," Vend rubbed his chin in thought, then looked at Jak. "You're off the hook, this time. Do it again, though, and I'll have to rethink my greed."

Zeg stared in shock as Vend relocked the cage and stalked back to the front of the wagon with Drun.

"Even as a slave, you're still at the top of the asshole heap," Zeg hissed, then lunged forward at Jak again and lifted him up by the collar. "If they won't scar you up, I sure as hell will."

Just as he was about to slug Jak in the face, one Babak grabbed his fist and held it.

"What are you touching me for, ape!?"

"Leave. Boy. Alone."

"Fuck off, you-"

The Babak scratched his claws into the man's flesh where he held his hand, leaving five bloody trails seeping down his arm. The man screeched and skittered back to his side of the cage like a rat, eyes wet, whining over the pain. The Babak who had defended Jak glared at the man, then turned and put his paws back outside the bars. He nodded towards the space beside him. Jak gladly took the spot.

"Thanks," Jak said, glad that the eco in his chest was starting to die down. "That could have gotten ugly, fast."

"No, thank you."

"For what?"

"For kindness in land of blue eco pipes. Couldn't talk. Master back then whipped when speak. Brutter learned to not say things. This master nicer about sharing words. Get along, only thing he care about."

"Brutter?"

The Babak pointed to himself. "Brutter me. You Jak, yes?"

Jak nodded.

"Saw you use green eco. Me too. Would show you, but metal hand holders prevent channel. Not common for last children to have it. Usually yellow or red, I see."

"Last children?"

"Pointy ears like you. Last children Precursors make. Stories say Babak were just before. Look close, don't we? Both five fingers. Both five toes," he put his paw against his face and lowered his voice. "Both no patience for assholes, either."

Jak and Brutter spent the rest of the afternoon chatting along at an ambling pace. As time went on, Jak's thoughts fled from the shadows of Samos and Sandover to the light of Brutter's stories. Like many others of his race, he'd set out from his tropical paradise homeland to the mainland for work.

"What did you want to do?" Jak asked.

"Business man. Brutter sell fish and food to people of Haven."

"You were headed for Haven, too?"

"No, far, far away! Good place at first. Then times turned bad for Babak when Baron Praxis take over city. He allow slavery of Babak, probably because too nice to fight back. Brutter tried to come home. Got caught by slavers on way. First master bought me, then he died in Basinbreak. Fell to death in rumbles. Brutter now get caught again by Vend. You try to go home, too?"

Jak fidgeted with the bandage on his hand.

"No home for Jak? That's okay - Babak can adopt you, if Jak like."

"Adopt?"

"Yeah! Jak give Brutter moonfruit and defend friend Babak against whips just now. Jak help Brutter, Brutter help Jak. You part of family. Brother."

Jak cracked his first genuine smile in what felt like forever. The warmth of Brutter's kindness kept it there even as they rolled along in that slave cart, not knowing what pain and horrors tomorrow might bring. He fell asleep at some point. When he awoke, he realized he'd used Brutter's arm as a pillow, but the Babak hadn't seemed to mind.

Their cart was parked in a small clearing surrounded by ancient cedars, the trickle of a stream not far. The slavers had set up a fire and ate and chatted away. Drun opened the cage and let the slaves relieve themselves and stretch their legs for a cruelly short amount of time, one-by-one.

During Jak's turn, Drun had stepped away for a few seconds to round up a yakow that had wandered too far. Jak almost made a break for it in the thick woods ahead of him, so tempting that he was already bracing his muscles to fight against the chains and run, but the sight of Brutter - slumped over in the cart behind - kept his feet still.

I can't just abandon him, Jak thought, even as his heart panged with regret at not taking the opportunity before Drun stomped back, He deserves freedom, too.

Three. Days. Three days of mud, teeth that ached from clamping down on a dagger, and picking ticks and leechwigs out of his fur. As Daxter leapt to another tree limb above the slavers' moving cart, barely able to hang on, legs weak from hunger and strain, he realized he was more pissed at them for making this as much of a pain in the ass as possible than he was for them taking Jak in the first place.

Every time they'd stopped to rest, Daxter had taken the opportunity to slink around from shadow to shadow, looking for a chance to run for the cage and get Jak's attention. He'd get close, open his mouth to whisper out to Jak, and then one of the slavers would inevitably turn and look his way. Each time, Daxter would scamper back to hide, vowing to stab one organ of theirs more than the last list he'd mentally promised to.

Today he'd already tried reaching Jak two times. Now, ready to camp for the night, the slavers settled in a forested, sunset-stricken glade surrounded by glowing orange starflowers, the same stream they'd stopped by hours ago trickling beside them yet again.

Daxter gritted his teeth. This place will look even prettier with their guts all over it.

Thankfully, his failed attempts in previous days had a small benefit: he'd gotten to know their schedule. He watched from the tree above, nodding every time they passed an item in their usual checklist. Set up the tents. Start cooking. Feed the yakows. Put the guns away. Chat until dinner was finished. Eat. The sky now dark, Daxter grinned and picked the dagger back up in his mouth. His chance was coming up. And this time, he knew exactly how to make sure it went off without a hitch.

"What was that?" Vend yelped, rice still on his chin as he lifted his face from his bowl.

"What was what?" asked Yi.

"Heard something over there," he dabbed his chopsticks at a break in the trees nearby. "Like something stepped on a stick."

"Probably just an animal, Vend," Drun said.

"I guess so. Or maybe my imagination's on the run-"

Snap! One of the yakows brayed, startled by something. The slavers stiffened. Vend nodded at Drun, who nodded back and got up, pistol in hand, yellow eyes wide even as he feigned confidence with quick, firm footsteps towards the source. He disappeared behind the brush.

"By the Precursors, Lessie's been bitten!"

As Vend and Yi got up and raced towards him, Daxter bolted from the bushes, pieces of yakow tail fur peeking out between his teeth and the dagger he carried. He looked for any sign of Jak amongst the people stuffed inside the slave cart. Beside one of the Babaks shone a shock of red and blonde hair.

He stood on his hind legs against the cage and pawed at Jak's back.

"What the...?"

Jak turned around. The dark circles under his blue eyes stood out even more as he widened them upon seeing Daxter. Daxter instantly shook his head and made a slitting motion across his throat as Jak started to speak.

"Something bother Jak?" said the Babak next to him.

"It's nothing, Brutter. Just thought I saw something in the brush nearby."

Jak turned back to Daxter and mouthed, 'What are you doing here?'

Daxter pushed the dagger through the bars by Jak's hand. Jak grimaced when he got yakow fur and ottsel slobber on him upon grabbing it.

'What am I supposed to do with this?', he mouthed as he wiped it on his shirt, then made a sarcastic jabbing motion with it and shrugged.

'What else would ya do with it!?' Daxter mouthed back, throwing his arms down in frustration. 'Forget it. Key?'

Jak pulled forward the cowl on his neck. Red. Then he made an 'X' shape with his fingers. Daxter nodded and started to pad away. Jak tapped on a cage bar. Daxter twisted around to give him an exasperated, puzzled look. Jak pointed at the Babak next to him. He mouthed 'silver', then picked up a leaf from the ground outside the cage.

'Silver leaf?' Daxter mimed back.

Jak grabbed his shackle, motioned a key opening it, then pointed at the Babak again and put his hands together, as if to beg. Daxter's heart dropped. He wanted him to grab the Babak's, too? Daxter swallowed hard. Grabbing the Babak's key didn't change his plan much, but it made the chances of getting caught much, much higher.

The sound of the slavers' return sent Daxter burrowing back into the bushes. Jak slipped the dagger in his pants pocket and pretended to return to staring up at the stars. The slavers settled back into their spots to eat again. Daxter padded to the stream, covered his paws and the tip of his tail in mud, cleaned his teeth of yakow fur in the water, and waited by the firelight's edge.

A few minutes of leisurely ignorance on the slavers' part passed. The ottsel grinned sadistically in the darkness, trotted into the light, then broke the quiet with the most bizarre sound to have ever come from his mouth. It was a long, drawn out, high pitched, chittering squeak! Everyone in the camp - slavers, slaves, and yakows - looked at him. Jak stared slack-jawed from the cart.

Yi was the first to speak, "There's that thieving little rat who stole the dagger!"

Vend rolled his eyes. "What are you talking about, Yi?"

"Back in the Precursor city. You all were out cold from the ale, still. This thing came along and swiped the dagger we took off Moneymaker. I chased it, but it slipped down the hill."

Maybe I was tryin' to get away from your butt ugly face? Daxter thought, then squeak-mewled again as if an insult had never crossed his mind in his entire life.

"Aww, this little guy took your dagger?" Drun asked. "He doesn't look like he'd harm anyone."

As if on cue, Daxter widened his pupils and cocked his head, squeaking again.

"He is rather cute," Vend replied, smiling at Daxter, then turned to look at the others. "Should we keep him?"

"For what?" Yi asked.

"I dunno. A pet? We could sell him at the market, if nothing else. Come here, little nibbler. I won't let the big scary lizard hurt you."

Vend picked up some meat from his bowl and held it out to Daxter. Daxter shifted on his paws, feigning reticence. The slaver threw the meat to Daxter, who ate it, watching Vend cautiously between bites. Vend threw another, pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket, and leaned closer.

"How 'bout we clean you up?"

Daxter continued to eat, not caring as Vend petted him, then rubbed the mud off of his legs and tail. The ottsel started to bat at the keys on his belt.

"Aww, he thinks they're toys," Drun replied.

"Well, now that I look at it more, it is pretty cute," Yi said.

"Then it's settled. We're keeping him," Vend took his belt of keys off and held them high, grinning as Daxter leapt up to paw at them, squeaking with every attempt. "I think I'll name you Fluffy. Here, you play with my keys. I'm going to go get you some more food. You must be hungry."

He set the belt down and walked off to the wagon. Daxter turned his head away from Yi and Drun, suppressed his urge to hiss at his "new" name, and searched the keys as nonchalantly as he could.

Red X, silver leaf. Red X, silver leaf. They've gotta be in here somewhere!

There. Daxter found them on the belt together, one key shining crimson with an intricate 'X' shape at its end, the other silver with a leaf motif on the stem. He nibbled through the thin string holding them on and grabbed them in his mouth.

Vend was coming back. Daxter pretended to simply gnaw on them.

"Found your favorites, have you? That's okay, you can keep them until we have to let the slaves out. Here's some more grub for you, Fluffy."

He set the bowl beside Daxter, then continued to talk with Yi and Drun about other things. Daxter played with the keys, progressively pushing them further away, following his 'toys' until he was scrabbling over them close to the clearing's edge.

"Vend, Fluffy's gettin' pretty far," Drun said.

"I'll grab 'im."

Daxter recoiled as Vend came over and leaned down to grab him. He had been so close. He watched in horror as Vend picked the keys back up.

Shit, what am I supposed to do now ? Think, Daxter, think!

Then he realized he didn't need to, because there was something else he could do. Daxter fought harder than he ever had to hold down a grin as he let a certain need loose.

"Let's get to bed, Fluffy. We have an early morning tomorr-what the hell? My shirt!" he dropped Daxter and the keys to pull his vest out, looking down at it in shock. "You fucking pissed on me, you little rat!"

Daxter snatched the keys in his mouth and made a beeline for the cage. Yi lunged for him. Daxter dodged her claws, then ducked between Drun's thundering steps as he also tried to stop him. He scrambled up the cage bars, then dropped the keys in Jak's lap from above.

Payback time, Daxter thought with a grin.

Jak unlocked the Babak next to him first. "Brutter, we're breaking you-"

Before he could finish, Brutter was already on his fellow Babaks, ripping their chains free from the pegs in the cart's side. He then tore the cage door clean off the hinges. Drun, Yi, and Vend stared on in shock as Brutter and the Babaks emerged.

"Shittin' Precursors… Drun, the guns!" Vend yelled.

Brutter took the cage door and threw it towards Drun as he tried to run for their supplies. It barely missed him, having been flung so hard it swirled like a discus through the air and stuck in a tree trunk just over his head. Brutter and the closest Babaks tackled him, first, while the others headed for Yi.

Daxter dropped down into the cage. "Jak, get your ass movin'!"

Jak finally got his own shackles unlocked and stumbled out of the cage, dagger in hand. Vend neared, glancing fearfully between Jak's hand, the Babaks currently beating the pulp out of Yi and Drun, and the wagon where the slavers' guns were.

"You know, I wouldn't say a damn thing if you just happened to slip out tonight and never came back again. How's that sound? Freedom's good, isn't it, Moneymaker?"

Jak hesitated. What could his dagger do if Vend got a hold of his pistols? Even worse, what if his dark eco triggered and he hurt not only the slavers, but the other humans and Babaks, too? And killing someone… again? Fear rose in him, biting at his chest as the dark eco burned. Maybe he should take Vend's offer and-

Four paws landed on Jak's shoulder

"First off, his name is Jak. Secondly, revenge is way better than freedom. Thirdly, just for callin' me Fluffy, I think I might just sic my angry friend here on ya."

"Y-you… you can shitting talk!?" Vend yelped.

"Almost as good as I can piss on ugly shirts. Jak, liver shivving time?"

Jak glanced to his left, Daxter's toothy grin and weight on his shoulder more reassuring than anything Jak had ever seen or felt before.

Daxter stayed, Jak thought in that moment. He actually stayed.

Jak turned back to Vend and nodded. "Liver shivving time."

Vend bolted for the wagon. Jak leapt at him, knocking him over just as Vend's hands met the wooden edge. The two rolled back and forth over the grass, Vend holding Jak's hand away as Jak tried to bring the dagger down. Daxter pounced up at the wagon and climbed up and over the side.

"You would have made us filthy fucking rich!" Vend hissed. "We might have even been able to sell you to the Baron and his eco scientist pets. They'd have coughed up millions for a freak like you!"

"Who?"

That was the hesitation Vend needed. He pinned Jak's arm to the side and kneed him in the gut. Jak tumbled aside, clutching his stomach. Vend grabbed the dagger, crawled forward, and raised it high. The shadow of his arm and the blade fell over Jak's crumpled form as the campfire raged behind him, roaring, blood-hot, bright.

An eco bullet bit into Vend's shoulder; a viper of yellow energy latching to and tearing at fabric and flesh. Daxter was atop the wagon, a pistol resting against the edge and holding it with all his weight, his paw on the trigger. Vend recoiled, dropping the dagger with a plink! Daxter nuzzled the gun over the side.

"Start shootin', Bigfoot!"

Jak reached for the pistol, realizing as he wrapped his fingers around the grip that he'd never shot one before. Jak gritted his teeth and stared, stunned, at Vend still stumbling as the man - blood oozing from his collar - yelled in rage at them and started forward again with the dagger. Jak raised his shaking arms, the weight of a pistol foreign to them as he hefted it up. He shut one eye and peered through the sight. The gun's barrel hissed and drooled with golden energy, ready to be spent.

Vend froze.

Click. Flash. Boom. A yellow bolt struck the center of Vend's chest. The slaver's hand glistened wet and red as he clutched the wound that soon appeared there, his dark eyes wide with shock. He took a step forward. Then another-

He toppled to the ground. Jak got to his feet and gawked at the slaver below. He was about to raise the pistol again, but the man's breathing was already starting to slow in rattling, desperate gasps. Whatever he'd hit when he shot him, it'd been enough to put an end to the slaver's life.

"Goddamned demon," Vend spat through the blood that had trickled from his lips. Then he shuddered, let out one last breath, and never stirred again.

Jak stood there, the pistol heavy in his right hand. He was tempted to both drop it and never touch another, and hold onto it for dear life. Drun and Yi were still alive, but in the moments after Vend's death, Jak found himself unable to turn and help the Babaks run them off.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Zeg - the gray eyed man - watching in shock from the cage. For the first time, Jak didn't cower in shame after a battle. Instead, he caught Zeg's stare and kept it, eyes intense. A small smile formed on Jak's lips as he noticed Zeg's expression turn to fear. Jak held his head high, the fire warming and lighting his face as he turned and he dared the man to look away without a single word.

Perhaps it was because he hadn't given into the dark eco this time and won with only strength and wits? However, a part of him knew he should feel ashamed to not be disgusted with himself. Sure, if anyone deserved to die, it was Vend. But a few weeks ago, he'd have never ended someone's life intentionally when not possessed by dark eco. Nor would he have grinned at someone who stared at him afterwards as if he were a bloodthirsty monster, as Zeg was doing now.

A tinge of horror started to gnaw at his pride as he remembered Zeg's words from earlier:

"Is that why Samos finally threw you out? No more room in the yakow pen for another savage beast, hmm?"

Jak snapped out of his thoughts upon hearing Drun and Yi screeching as they ran off. The Babaks tossed stones at them as they fled into the night. Then the Babaks turned around, looking at Brutter for guidance. Brutter looked to Jak - and Daxter, as he found his way to Jak's shoulder again - and smiled.

"Are you sure you don't want any of this?" Jak asked.

It was the morning after the fight. The Babaks and Jak had let the other slaves eat and go as they pleased. Zeg was especially grateful and may have even slipped an apology towards them before he left on the long road back south with the others. The Babaks were getting ready to leave, the yakows already hitched to the wagon.

"Babaks no need these," Brutter pushed a bag back into Jak's arms. "Little orangey warrior and Jak need them for road north. Much more dangerous than anything south."

Jak sighed. More danger. Just what we need.

"Food keep your belly full. Sword, dagger, and gun keep you safe. Lots of money from slavers for other things, too."

"I barely know how to use the gun," Jak replied. "I'm not sure I'm comfortable-"

Brutter's hands met his shoulders. "You good guy, remember? You shoot for good reason. Precursors not get mad for you protecting yourself. Besides, I taught you all I know this morning. You're already better than before!"

"But-"

"Thank you for kindness in land of blue eco pipes. Thank you for kindness to spare Babak brother from whipping. And thank you for helping free Babaks yesterday. For three nicenesses, Brutter give you three pieces of advice in return!"

Jak couldn't help but crack a grin at the Babak's way of exchanging favors. Daxter, who was taking a drink at the stream nearby, rolled his eyes, though they had a gleeful edge to them.

"One, keep gun and buy clothes like northerner in next town. You fit in, look dangerous or too much of fight, slavers leave Jak alone."

"Okay," Jak wasn't sure he liked the idea of wearing shoes, but nodded. "What's number two?"

"When you get to Haven, try to find Torn. Attitude like tigerbear, heart like puppy."

What kind of a name is 'Torn'? Jak wondered, then shrugged.

"Alright, that's easy to remember. Number three?"

"Number three is this," Brutter wrapped an arm around Jak and led him farther away from the others. "Brothers by blood easy to get. Brothers by bond not. Brutter's eyes old, but they can see it as easily as the mountains above the plains."

"See what?"

"You already have brother by bond. You doubted him before, but no longer, okay? Both good for each other. Both look out for each other. Both have spirits linked."

Jak raised a brow. "Did that Kig hit your head too hard or something?"

"Little and big. Orange and blue. Push and pull. Light and dark. Makes sense to me! Makes sense to Jak?"

Jak nodded and lied, "Sure, I guess."

"Good! Brutter can leave knowing Jak understands, now."

And so he did. Jak and Daxter stood in the road outside the forest, the Babaks heading back south before them as a line of purple towards the horizon. Jak and Daxter went the opposite direction and started towards two rivers that met like a wishbone in the distance, a large town gleaming where their waters met.

Jak stopped after a few steps. Daxter turned back, frowning with concern.

"You okay there, Bigfoot?"

"You… wanna ride on my shoulder?"

The ottsel hesitated, then shrugged. "Well, I suppose that bony thing is better than walking on hard stones."

Daxter climbed up Jak's outstretched arm, settling on his left shoulder just as he had the night before. With some awkward shuffling, Daxter found a comfortable position, while Jak found he didn't mind the prickle of the ottsel's claws.

"Sooooo... 'Fluffy', huh?"

"You want piss down your back? 'Cause if you call me that ever again, that's what you're gettin'."

Jak looked over at Daxter with a wide smile as he continued to walk. Daxter raised a brow.

"What's wrong?" Jak asked.

"You're all chipper. And you're jokin' around with me. It's weirdin' me out!"

"You know what else was weird? You, doing what you did last night."

"Nothin' weird about it. I did what I had to."

"I mean, did you catch Vend's face when he realized he'd been duped? That asshole didn't see it coming. You saved my life with that trick, you know?"

Daxter's claws dug tighter into Jak's shoulder, little blue eyes empty, gaze seemingly focused on somewhere very far away.